


somewhere, anywhere

by orphan_account



Series: the same heart [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, I Ship It, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Idiots in Love, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Long Shot, M/M, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Post-Season 5, Romantic Fluff, Stars, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, allura and pidge are the best "sisters", fuck i dont know dfkdsk, i think, im sorry, listen, theyre just both trainwrecks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: AU. He was spreading his wings; he needed a nudge in order to fly.





	somewhere, anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> i cant believe im finally posting this??? anyway im klance trash and i have like 43464836 fics im working on and havent finished but heres one i have!! in honor of s6 jfjckcmdks i hope it's good i haven't watched yet,

“That was a wonderful mission today, everyone. Really. I wasn't sure how well you'd work together, with Keith just coming back,” Shiro reaches over to his little brother figure and ruffles his hair with his hand, a sincere smile on his face. “But if anything, it only made you stronger. Good work out there, team.”

Lance catches himself smiling fondly at Keith, and quickly stops it before anyone can notice. Gently, with a little unmasked adoration laced in alongside his typical goofiness, he snorts, raising an eyebrow at Keith and elbowing him playfully. “What, _this guy_?” he laughs lightly, a grin on his face. “ _I_ was the one kicking ass out there! I could've taken on that entire cruiser, no problem.” He waves through the air with his hand, an inflated sense of pride on his dark features.   
  
Everyone laughs, and Lance smiles happily, like he's proud that he's making everyone so joyful. Pidge holds her helmet in her hands, tossing it at Lance with a smug expression. “Mmm, _bet_. You wouldn't have lasted twenty doboshes without the rest of us, loser, and you _know it._ "   
  
Easily, the red paladin catches the helmet with his free hand, wrapping it under his other arm so that his own helmet and Pidge’s each curl against him. He has a shit-eating grin on his face, and he sends Pidge a challenging look, one that only silently boasts his achievement of catching the helmet so easily.  “Oh, really?” He replies, voice bumptious, but still sportive.   
  
“Really,” Pidge grins, and her hands move to her hips, but she doesn't hide her concerned glance toward her helmet. “Give me that back, I keep that thing clean, if you don't mind,”   
  
“What, this,” Lance rubs at the green and white helmet, taking a step toward its paladin and letting his eyebrow tip upward again, mirroring the smug look on the smaller of the two’s face. “Ol’ thing? Why don'tcha come get it?”   
  
Foolishly, Pidge swings her arm out to retrieve the helmet, only for Lance to toss it into the air and catch it expertly, extending it high above his head. Pidge feebly jumps against him, groaning about her short arms while flailing for her stolen item. The entire time, Lance is bubbling with laughter along with the team, his head tossed back and his eyes crinkling at the edges and squinting ever so slightly, his shoulders bouncing along. A full body laugh.

  
Keith is unashamedly staring, taking his own turn to wear the fond smile. Pidge and Lance had such a wonderful sibling-like relationship, even after Pidge had found her brother, Matt, after _years_ of searching. It was such a lovely sight to Keith, and it always would be, he thought. He couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of… envy, though, that Pidge was getting this attention from Lance.   
  
Finally, Lance scoots backward, tucking the helmet in his arm again and pivoting on his heel. “If you want it, you gotta catch me!” He calls happily back at Pidge, who yells indignantly, pounding her feet against the floor of the castle as she takes off after an already-running Lance, the two of them still carrying on with their banter on the way down the hall.

 

“They’re wild,” Hunk comments after everyone’s finally calmed down with their laughter and giggles. “Now who wants food? I want food. I’m gonna try to make… space pasta,” He licks his lips only half jokingly. “Who’s down?”

 

Shiro gives him that same encouraging Dad smile that he _always_ has. “ _All_ of your food is delicious, Hunk.”

 

“Yeah!” Lance announces as he runs back into the room, Pidge draped over his shoulder. “If you don’t trust Hunk with food, you can’t trust anyone at all, and _that’s_ a fact.” His laugh still lingers in his voice, and his lips curl slightly at the edges into a smile.

 

“Welcome back,” Keith jokes, his eyebrows upturned and a smile fitted onto his pale face, eyes taking in the sight of a slightly sweaty and out-of-breath Lance. “Running away from Pidge gave you more of a workout than fighting against the Galra.”

 

When Lance laughs, it’s somehow more loud and peppy than before, and Keith revels in it. Maybe it’s selfish, but that laugh is just for him, _because_ of him, this time around, and he adores it. “This little gremlin is _speedy_. I just gave up the helmet, because it’s all sticky and sweaty and gross now anyway from my hands and my armpits, so.”

 

Pidge yells again, smacking at Lance’s back. “Excuse me, what! Ew! Ew! Put me down, I gotta go get it from my room!”

 

“No way, Pidgeon,” he grins, grip tightening on Pidge. “You’re not going down until I gotta take my armor off.”

 

“Hunk! Hunk, help me, _spare me!”_

 

Hunk snorts at the two of them, rolling his eyes. “Okay, Lance, go ahead and put the poor, struggling soul down and get ready for dinner. That goes for all of you!"

 

Lance just shakes his head, reluctantly letting Pidge back onto the safety of the ground. “Party pooper," He grumbles innocently, trotting off toward the common room with the others trailing right behind him.

 

* * *

 

When the squad reaches the common room, the first thing Lance does is plop down on the couch nearest the door, sighing dramatically in relief. In response, Keith rolls his eyes, sitting down more casually onto the couch to Lance’s right.

 

“Alright, drama queen, you’re not dying.” Keith teases, staring lovingly at a distracted Lance. He watches Allura sit down opposite to him out of his peripherals, and Pidge joins her, too.

 

“Oh, no, I totally am," Lance refutes, groaning loudly as he rolls his shoulders exaggeratedly. Keith thinks it’s extremely distracting how his muscles flex, stretch, and bunch in response to the movement, and he can’t even prevent himself from staring, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks and warming the tips of his ears.

 

Lance is either a little shit, or entirely oblivious to Keith’s drooling. He’s the only one either ignoring it or not noticing it entirely. Slowly, he cracks his neck from side to side, letting out sighs of relief with each tilt, all extremely exaggerated. He’s in a love-hate relationship with the cracking his bones make, too.

 

Keith is in literal pain, watching as Lance twists at the waist back and forth, listening to his back pop, and were his shoulders always so broad with his armor on, and was it weird to think he had a really nice back and chest and body and _holy shit--_

 

He was sure he was a goner, but things worsen when Lance takes his sweet time unbuckling the chest armor and sliding it off, revealing the tight black undersuit and his broad chest. Lance slides off the armor on his arms next, letting out out another soft groan and laying his head back against the couch. He slumps a little, not opening his eyes as he asks innocently, “ _Keeeeeeeeithy_ , can you take off my leg armor for me?”

 

Keith regrets moving his eyes to his face, because he was pouting, and he could basically _feel_ the puppy eyes. They’d be there if his eyes were open. He starts panicking amongst himself for a split second, because _holy shit,_ he was about to be _between Lance’s legs,_ and oh my God, he was far, _far_ too gay for this, he couldn’t just say yes--

 

Unbuckling his own chest armor hastily to look like he was doing the same thing as Lance rather than staring at his _attractive body,_ he grunts in response, standing up and getting on his knees in front of Lance. He could literally feel the heat in his face-- that’s how severely he was blushing. He ignores the feeling of Allura and Pidge’s stares; a.k.a, he blushes twice as hard because of them and pretends it never happened.

 

_Play it cool, you gay fucking mess._

 

As casually as he can, he grabs one of Lance’s legs, trying to calm his shaking as he reaches around his calf and fiddles aimlessly with the armor, because suddenly he’s lost all control of his hands. Finally, after a stupid amount of time, he peels off the section of armor, heaving out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before recalling that, oh, right, _there was more._

 

Breathing hitching again, he yanks off the kneepad with more haste, and he (sadly? Thankfully? He can’t pick) doesn’t miss the little gasp of shock that falls from the Cuban boy’s lips; soft and quiet, but somehow loud in Keith’s pounding ears. Still, those beautiful blue eyes stay shut.

 

Lance wriggles down, ever so slightly, just enough to give Keith better access to his thigh. He rests his hands on the armor, but he’s gazing hungrily at Lance’s calf, because _wow._ Just _wow._ He’s completely, utterly floored, entirely speechless, because holy shit, _holy shit._ This boy is more beautiful than Keith had remembered. He makes a mental note to give him more credit.

 

Suddenly, he realizes he’s had his hands around Lance’s thigh for _far too long_ and he hasn’t even _started_ to take it off. Jesus Christ, what the fuck.

 

So he does this, lifting Lance’s leg by the ankle (holy fuck. He’s touching the leg of an actual god) and curling his fingers around the top of the armor, his hand brushing the other thigh as he gently pulls the plate down and off the boy’s leg. He thinks about apologizing, but he notices the way Lance… shivers. Shivers? Is he cold? Did Keith do something? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit--

 

_Pull yourself to-fucking-gether, Kogane, do the other leg, you’re absolutely fine._

 

Every time he pulls the armor down Lance’s second leg, he ends up touching the other one, whether it be full on, or just ghosting it. Every time, Lance makes a tiny noise, almost like a whimper, and his body tenses. Sometimes, he’ll shiver, or tremble. A couple times, Keith hears his breath hitch. It’s weird, and he doesn't understand why he’s doing it, but he’s also not even opposed to it.

 

When he pulls the last of the armor off, he sits between Lance’s legs for a minute, literally just admiring them before he realizes what he’s doing and scrambles away, unable to breathe. “Yep! There ya go, all- all done,” he squeaks, knowing how obvious the tint to his face was and how much it darkened when those blue eyes opened and found him. The appreciative smile didn’t help his case.

 

“Thank you, Keith. Now c’mere, I gotta return the favo-”

 

“No!” He yells abruptly, because the thought of Lance touching him like that made his stomach do somersaults and his heart palpitate. “I- I mean… It’s okay, I can get it, really.”

 

Lance raises an eyebrow at him and laughs gently, sliding down the couch. He scoots toward Keith. “Nooo! It’s only fair!”

 

Holy fuck, Lance looks good in his undersuit.

 

He’s still got his belt around his hips, slightly crooked where it rests, and his gloves are pulled off. The undersuit does his body _countless_ favors; it compliments _every single muscle_ in _every part_ of his legs, arms, stomach, chest, back… you name it. It’s… a little overwhelming for Keith, actually, because what the fuck, he’s really, _really_ attractive, and this isn’t even fair. He will, in fact, implode if Lance touches his legs wearing that, and his helmet hair, and those gorgeous eyes and precious freckles--

 

But it’s too late, because Lance is grabbing him by the legs; gently, but it’s enough to make every muscle in Keith’s body tighten. Lance pulls his long legs into a criss-cross, a small frown crossing his face as his eyebrows furrow. “Relax, Keith. I won’t like, kill you,” His frown lifts a little.

 

“I know,” Keith responds, trying to discreetly level his breathing before deciding to just hold his breath entirely.

 

He _swears_ Lance intentionally rests his hands across his legs longer than need be. He _swears_ it, but he's simultaneously having a silent gay panic, so his head’s a little bit foggy and clouded.

 

Every time he feels the warmth from Lance's hands and occasionally opens his eyes whenever he dares, he sees the same blue eyes and dark skin and pretty freckles. It only makes him even more of a mess. His skin is on fire; _every inch_ of him. The brush of those slender fingers sends him into a state he can't even describe, but he'd rather be dead than experience it in front of Lance, because he has these thoughts when he's _alone_ for a reason, not when there's no escape for him.

 

Lance moves over to his second leg. ”Seriously, buddy, relax. I gotcha.” He laughs again, like he can't possibly imagine why Keith is so uncomfortable.

 

“Yeah,” he breathes shakily, trying to adhere to his advice but, of course, failing. “Sorry.”

 

“You okay? You look kinda… I dunno, sick?” Lance tilts his head at Keith, studying him with genuine concern, eyebrows upturned. The bitch was _genuinely_ entirely oblivious to how badly he was fucking Keith up just by existing, and Keith didn't know if he should be thankful, concerned, pissed off, or neutral about it.

 

“‘M fine.” He stutters out, and Lance doesn't look convinced at all, but he finishes his work, moving a little faster on the second leg than he did on the first.

 

When he finishes, he hops to his feet and grins, offering a hand to Keith. “All done! Lemme help you up.”

 

Keith takes his hand, because it'd be rude not to, and he doesn't know if he just imagines that they hold on longer than they need to.

 

He thinks Lance yells another “thank you” back at him, but his ears are roaring again. And then the red paladin is gone, taking his armor with him, and Keith is left standing breathlessly in the middle of the common room. He's literally forgotten the other two in the room when Pidge speaks up.

 

“So, _Keith,_ ” she coos smugly, raising an eyebrow at him. He meets her gaze, looking extremely pissed off, but threatened.

 

“Your secret’s safe with us,” Allura encourages, staring at Keith before glancing mischievously at Pidge, and they both start giggling at each other.

 

Keith bends over and swallows up his armor in his arms, cursing at Pidge when she yells while he walks out, “You're lucky he's totally oblivious!”

 

* * *

 

“It's so weird! I totally like it. I think. It… reminds me of home. I don't know why, but… yeah, I love the beach and rain and my family, and… but it's kind of… bittersweet? I miss it--”

 

Lance is rambling over the faux-pasta, and everyone's just listening to him while they eat. Keith isn't sure that everyone likes it, but _he_ sure does. He could listen to Lance talk for hours. His voice is… nice. Nice.

 

He abruptly stops, catching himself and sitting on one of his hands so it won't wave around. With his other, he prods at his food. “Sorry,” he manages, his voice far too soft. “I rambled. I do that sometimes. Just tell me when to stop.”

 

The rest of dinner ended up being spent in a sort of heavy silence, since no one knew how to respond to Lance’s apology, and Lance didn’t want to talk anymore after he’d stopped. Keith briefly considers trying to reassure him, but he doesn’t know what he really wants to say without sounding… cliché.

 

And so he says nothing, and everyone does the same, save for the occasional, ‘Can you pass the salt, please?... Oh, yeah, here… Thanks… You’re welcome!’ and other casual dinner exchanges of the like. Keith has always hated small talk, and this kind of conversation drives him somehow even _further_ up the wall.

 

They’ve cleaned up and already started off to their respective rooms by the time he builds up the courage to talk to Lance.

 

“Lance,” he calls, watching the slightly taller boy turn with a start, more surprised than need-be. Keith's worry only doubles at how jumpy he is. ”Are you okay?”

 

A guarded expression shadows Lance's face, but Keith thinks he only imagined it, because at the same moment he was giving Keith a wide, bright-eyed smile. “Yeah! I'm fine. Ready for bed,” he admits.

 

Keith tries to hide his skepticism. He knows that Lance wasn't usually ready for bed _this_ early. It had to be only nine in the evening or so, give or take. Usually, he'd be performing some insane, complex skin ritual that Keith would never understand at this time.

 

“Okay," Keith finally answers, not intending to leave the edge in his voice. “Sleep well, then?”

 

Lance nods, a little too excitedly. “Yeah, you too.”

 

And they share one last glance before Lance enters his room, and Keith continues on to his.

 

* * *

 

Keith wakes up sweating and breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest and the blood rushing to his ears. His chest tightens, and his lungs ache, and then his _stomach_ aches, and he's closing his eyes again.

 

When a breath of air finally fills his lungs, he releases the grip he has on his blanket, slumping against the head of the bed and closing his eyes. He groans quietly, and reopens his eyes, glaring at the wall in disdain, as if it was what woke him up.

 

Because he doesn't know what woke him up, or why he was panicking when he did. He supposes it doesn't matter anyway.

 

He silently climbs out of bed, rubbing at his eyes. He wonders briefly about the time, but he doesn't even check. Instead, he heads out the door, because a walk around the castle would give him time to think and breathe. Just… relax.

 

His determination to follow through, however, does not make him miss the figure turning the corner. A little gasp emits from him and his eyes narrow.

 

_At this hour?_

 

Conflicted with worry and suspicion, he pursues, creeping around the corner as quietly as he can. He’s barefoot, aside from a pair of socks, and a slight chill doesn't hesitate to settle its way over him. The shadow picks up speed, and so does Keith. He can't get a good look at the silhouette, but the glimpses he manages to catch tell him they're far too tall to be Pidge.

 

The figure was on its way to the hangars of the lions, and Keith briefly toys with the possibility of an intruder before reminding himself that the castle would have warned them.

 

Neither of them stop sprinting until the mystery team member seems to reach their destination: the Blue Lion. 

 

“Hey, Blue. Open up, girl. We're gonna take a ride.” A pause; presumably while the lion responds. “Yes, again… I didn't come here for you to judge me!... No, I know, I really need to get a hold of myself… Just this once?... Attagirl!... What? What do you…?”

 

Keith watches in confusion as the boy’s voice reverberates through the room, gentle and heavy with something he couldn't place.

 

And then Lance turns around, a little gasp falling from his lips. He looked horrified, like he'd just watched his puppy get run over. “Keith? _Fuck._ How long have you been there? How long have you been following me? _Why_ are you following me? Fuckin’... creep…”

 

Keith doesn’t take the insults to heart. The embarrassed blush and the exaggerated look of annoyance told him this was _Bravado_ Lance, compensating for letting himself be discovered. “Hey. You don't have to act like that. No one else is here.”

 

“Like what?” Lance persists, blue eyes still drawn narrow. “I don't act like anything! If you have a problem, leave!”

 

His face softens, because he understands-- or a least, he thinks he does. He gazes at Lance and notes how delirious he is. “Sorry, sorry. What're you doing up so late?”

 

Lance's eyes resume their resting state, if not a bit wider, like he forgot momentarily that he was up in the middle of the night. He watches Keith with a guarded expression as the dark-haired boy moves closer and closer.

 

They're a mere foot away now, and Lance wonders if the the catch in his breath is obvious. He can tell Keith is wide awake, but he's still acting delirious, and it piques Lance's curiosity.

 

He realizes he's supposed to respond. “Oh, uh. Just… couldn't sleep. You?”

 

Keith couldn't help but feel it wasn't the entire truth. “I woke up. But that doesn't explain why you're getting in Blue-- you know, not your lion-- in the middle of the night. For no reason, at that.”

 

A silence passes between them. And it's not even uncomfortable, really. Keith isn't expecting it when Lance sighs and smiles, grabbing Keith by the arm as Blue's head lowers and her mouth opens.

 

Lance pulls him by the hand onto the lion, a little skip in his step. Blue lifts her head and closes her mouth just as Keith is yanked inside. Lance's hand is still loosely holding his as he sits in the seat; only then does he let go.

 

Keith moves to the side as the seat lurches forward and Blue springs to life. It's then-- after the tingling in his hand from Lance's touch fades-- that he asks a question. “Where are you taking me? Should I be concerned?”

 

A smug look covers Lance's face. “In the wise words of one Keith Kogane: _shut up and trust me._ ” Without a moment's hesitation, the lion was ejected into space, and Keith clung on to the seat with one hand, and Lance's arm with the other.

 

He'd expected Lance to fuck with him, sling him around the cockpit a little, but despite the determined look on his face, he flies slowly and steadily, and after a minute, his face relaxes.

 

Keith relaxes, too, leaning against the seat instead of holding it for dear life, his hand still resting on Lance's shoulder. “Where are we going?”

 

He's not ready when Lance looks over his shoulder. He notices Lance's severe bedhead for the first time, but he also notices how exhausted he looks. How sad he looks. And despite this, he smiles softly, like Keith is the only thing in the universe, and it makes Keith feel warm. Soft. Important. _Worth something._ “We've been there before. I… I've been wanting to go back,” he turns back to face forward. “But we haven't had time. I've got time now.”

 

“But _where?"_  Keith reiterates, a little annoyance seeping into his tone. He couldn't be talking about _Earth,_ could he…? Why would he bring Keith? Why would he go in the middle of the night without telling anyone? Panic weighs down on his chest, suffocating him as he asks hurriedly. “Are you going back to Earth?”

 

“Wh-- what? No…” He sounds a little standoffish now, and when Keith peeks around to glance at his face, he sees the absolute _longing_ in those blue eyes. “No, there's… there's no time for that. I, um, I was going to the Balmera?”

 

“The Balmera?” Keith echoes, confused.

 

Lance's gentle smile returns, and he casts another look back at Keith. He hums, letting the lion fly on autopilot. “Yeah,” he answers, leaning back comfortably. “When… when we watched the sunrise, and it was sparkling over the crystals? Yeah. I just… missed it, I guess. It was really comforting. Plus, I kinda wanna check in on the Balmerans.”

 

He stops, freezing with wide eyes. “I mean-- I didn’t-- No…!”

 

Keith doesn’t think before he chuckles, just loud enough for Lance to hear. “Lance, I know you aren’t selfish. You’re an amazing person. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

 

Lance is quiet, but he looked like he was talking to someone; probably Blue. Keith hears the paladin say under his breath, “Shut up, Blue. It doesn’t mean anything and… No, I don’t!... This is why I don’t talk to you, alright?... Whatever.”

 

“What?” Keith asks, playing dumb rather than admitting that he’d heard him. It was easier, really. “You know I mean that, right? You can just be yourself around me. I… thought you’d… felt that way, after the bedroom…?”

 

Blue eyes widen ever so slightly, and he leans forward, gripping the controls so tight that his knuckles tinge with white. His hands are clammy, and his head is pounding, because frankly, he hadn’t expected Keith to remember. He says hurriedly, in a futile attempt to change the subject, “We’ll be there in a minute. I see it.”

 

Keith knows he’s avoiding the question. He sighs, shaking his head to himself. Sometimes, Lance was worse than Keith when it came to talking about his feelings, and that was pretty fucking hard to beat, considering Keith had spent the past years cooped up in a shack in the desert, chasing after something he didn’t even know existed, with no human contact whatsoever. As time with the paladins and team Voltron went by, he got better about it, but he was still his same reserved, lone wolf self, usually. He opened up around Hunk, and Pidge sometimes, too, and obviously Shiro. Recently, he’d been opening up to Lance, too, but just… a little. Bit by bit.

 

But as time went on, Lance seemed to get worse and worse. He wonders if Lance thinks he hasn’t even realized.

 

By the time he yanks himself from his thoughts, Lance is landing on the Balmera, and Shay and Rax are there to greet them. Blue lowers her head and opens her mouth, and Keith walks out with Lance right at his side.

 

“These ones?” Rax seems a little surprised, but pleasantly so, and his reaction is fond.

 

Shay smiles, hugging the two of them. “Paladins, for what do we owe your visit? Why do two come in one?” She points at Blue in confusion after pointing to Keith and Lance.

 

Lance is grinning, and it mesmerizes Keith; he takes an opportunity to just… admire silently. “We haven’t actually come for anything. We just… dropped by for a visit. Is that okay?”

 

“Of course,” Shay insists. “Our home is your home! The Balmera welcomes you. Hunk, is he with you?”

 

“No,” Lance answers, downtrodden and shaking his head. “Not this time. He says hey, though! He really misses you.”

 

Shay starts to smile again. “I miss him, too. Tell him that for me.”

 

The four wave goodbye, Rax and Shay returning to the underground while Lance and Keith stood still. Keith begins to ask what they’re doing now when he catches Lance staring at him, and he blushes. His mouth is too dry to say anything.

 

A moment or two passes, and then Lance grabs Keith’s hand again and turns to Blue. “Can we hop on your head, girl?... Listen, I know you hate it, but don’t you _loveeee meee?”_

 

Keith rolls his eyes and smiles, tempted to give him shit but doesn’t do it in the end. Blue’s already leaning down, and Lance is tugging him over to her, guiding him along a path up her face and straight to the flat of her head.

 

“Thanks, girl,” he hums, and laughs, presumably at some sort of feeling or image Blue just gave him. Keith suddenly feels intrusive, and the feeling only grows as Blue rises again. Lance settles back on the heels of his hands, resting and just… observing.

 

Keith does the same, but he still feels like he doesn't belong. Moments pass before Keith mentions, “It's gonna be awhile before the sun rises.”

 

“I know.” Lance answers, staring at the ceiling of stars before his eyes in total fascination. If he looks close enough, Keith can see their reflections speckling his eyes, and _God_ does he look. He looks more than necessary, more than he's allowed to.

 

“Lance, why did you want me to come with you?” Keith asks softly after some time of comfortable silence.

 

Lance scoots closer to Keith. He's shivering a little, so Keith presses against him, and the Cuban welcomes the touch, to Keith's surprise. “Because you're comforting," Lance answers, head lolling to the side to rest on Keith's shoulder. He points at the largest star in the sky, tinted purple. Around it, brilliant colors stain the sky; pinks, blues, purples, reds, they're all there in a brilliant and mesmerizing collision. It's _art,_  to put it simply.

 

Yet… there is nothing _simple_ about it. Every layer of color, every fleck in the sky has a meaning, has a story, has a _beginning_. Life is so incredibly complex, and as soon as you think you've got it all down to a science, that science _bails_ on you. _People_ bail on you.

 

But lying at Lance's side, under a dazzling show of diverse color and size in stars and lights, everything feels a little _safer_ , a little _easier,_  a little _simpler._ He thinks of how Lance has become his stability, his _rock,_  the one person he listens to when he's entirely out of it. And at the same time…

 

It hits him that he hardly knows a thing about Lance. _Lance_ hardly knows a thing about _him._ Maybe it's time to start prying.

 

“Lance?”

 

He receives a quiet hum, Lance's hooded blue eyes and lazy smile swallowing the sky and all its stars, claiming them all as his own. Keith thinks that Lance does, in fact, deserve every star. He'd steal them all for the freckled, long-legged, boisterous Cuban boy who pretended to be confident to make up for his lack.

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

Keith can almost _feel_ Lance's walls, hitched between falling and standing strong. He can feel them drop, just a little, and the roaring tidal wave they hold back sloshes against them desperately. If Keith wasn't so bad with people, maybe he'd understand that conflicted, warring expression on those beautiful features. If he knew how to speak properly, he'd tell Lance he understands him. But he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand Lance's homesickness, or his longing for his family, or his love of the water, or his love of the rain, or why he flirts with everything that moves, or why he's so determined to hold a… _persona_ around everyone.

 

He doesn't understand, but he _empathizes._ That may be all he _can_ do, but he hopes Lance appreciates it.

 

Lance's eyes close for at least ten minutes, and when they finally open, they glitter with unshed tears, and even more so when the stars catch them. “I'm a lot more closed off than anyone… realizes,” he mutters, laughing without humor. “I'm just kind of trapped inside my head. I… I try to escape, but I can't. I hide from all of you, I hide from _everyone_ , because what if _you_ start to see the _real_ me like _I_ see him? I think _that's_ my biggest fear. That I'll _finally_ open up, and everyone will start to understand why I never did. I… I'm… fuck, sorry-- shit. I'm the _comedic relief_ of the team, you know? The goofball. The troublemaker. The happy, confident, egotistical Cuban boy who misses his family sometimes, and isn't good at _anything_ , but _pretends_ to be good at _everything_.”

 

Keith hears his shuddering breath, and he reaches for Lance's hand before he can stop himself, twining their fingers and squeezing comfortingly.

 

“I just _scare myself_ sometimes, Keith,” he whispers, and his voice is so fragile and shaky and _broken_ that Keith shivers. “Because sometimes, I don't know what to _do_ with myself. It's… really hard to get out of bed. And it's not just, y’know, _homesickness_. I… wasn't lying to you. When I told you I thought I didn't have a place on the team. And I still don't think I do. I don't understand why Blue thinks I'm worthy of her still, or why Red lets me in. I'm not worthy of being a paladin. I'm not even worthy of being part of Team Voltron at _all_ , Keith. We've all got our thing. You're the lone wolf, Pidge is the genius, Hunk is the leg slash gentle giant, Shiro is the dad slash leader, Coran is the supportive space uncle, Allura is the badass princess. And then there's _Lance_ \--” he makes sarcastic jazz hands with his one free hand, smiling sadly.

 

“Lance, I…” Keith struggles to find words in this situation. He'd known Lance struggled, but he never knew it was this bad. He feels… kind of helpless in this situation. He turns onto his side, releasing Lance's hand. He touches his face gingerly, tentatively. Lance avoids his eyes. “Hey, no,” he mutters encouragingly. “Look at me, okay?”

 

And slowly, Lance does. There's raw fear and hurt in his eyes, with a steely addition of self-hatred and disappointment. Keith frowns softly. “You are _not_ worthless. You're the team sharpshooter. My right hand man. My… stability, honestly. I don't listen to anyone, but when I hear your voice…”

 

The corners of Lance's mouth twitch upward. Keith laughs a little. “It grounds me. Without you, I probably would've gotten us killed by now.”

 

“But what am I without you? Or the others? Everyone can stand on their own. I can't. I'm not good enough. I'm not _worthy,_ Keith. I pretend I deserve everything so I can convince _myself._  I'm so afraid. I'm so _alone._  I have _nothing_. My family is either worried sick or has forgotten me, and I know just how forgettable I am,” a pause, and he quietly tacks on, “sometimes, I wonder what it would've been like if I'd died saving Coran. Everyone would think I was a hero, some good person. Even though I'm _not._  I just want people to see the version I _show them_. If I hide the real me, no one has to look at him, and _everyone_ wins. If I'd just died then, _before_ I fucked _everything_ up…”

 

This is… news to Keith. He'd never known that Lance had actually… no. _No._ The tears in Lance's eyes are dripping down his face, across his nose and wetting his hairline and temple. He's visibly trembling, and Keith knows it's not from the cold anymore. His hand is still on Lance's face. It's warm, like he's blushing, and he's… really soft, actually. The skin care routines definitely did _something._ He smiles in an attempt to comfort Lance.

 

He tries to ignore how romantic this is, and even goes so far as to wipe his face of tears before they roll away. It's nice. He wishes this would happen in better circumstances, where Lance _didn't_ feel worthless and they _weren't_ leaving the castle in the middle of the night.

 

“Keith?”

 

“Hey.”

 

“I'm sorry for making you listen to my shit. You've got enough going on.”

 

Keith shakes his head and lets Lance go, rolling onto his back again. He can feel eyes on him still. “I've been a lot better ever since I came back. Being away from you guys… it was like losing part of me. You're my family now. _Voltron_ is my family.”

 

He can hear Lance roll over onto his back, punctuating the movement with a huff. “Voltron is _my_ family too. All of us. And Keith… you don't _ever_ have to leave. Like… you won't again. Right?”

 

He doesn't even hesitate as he answers sincerely, “No. I will _never_ leave my team again.”

 

“You… won't leave _me_?”

 

_“Never.”_

 

“ _I_ won't leave _you._ ” Lance promised in return. “I'm a fucking mess, and I'm an _idiot_ , but I'd never leave everyone. I… may feel like I don't belong, but until everyone _realizes_ that I don't, I'll be selfish and horde _every_ second I've got.”

 

Keith isn't sure how to respond. He's not good with people, but Lance seems to understand, zoning back in on the sky.

 

Stars wink at the two of them, mixing hues of yellows, blues, and whites. They were flecks of diamond thrown into the sky, glittering in an endless loop, a never-ending projection that just replays itself, but somehow, the beauty of them never gets old for _either_ paladin. The shifting silver and slate colors of the sky seem to be constantly animated, always in motion, a movie that they both know is on display for _hundreds_ , but still feel as though is only _theirs. That_ was the beauty of selfishness; if someone else felt it _with_ you, you weren't really as selfish as you thought. It was just so easy to pretend that everything revolved around one person, rather than that one person revolving around everything. The universe was so wide, and one person was so _small._ It was suffocating to think about.

 

Lance seemed pretty lost in thought. Keith turns his head toward him, observing his upturned eyebrows and gentle, starry eyes. Just behind him, crystals spot the land, glimmering with the starlight, but not even _half_ as beautiful as the boy above them all.

 

Finally, Keith speaks. “Are you okay?”

 

The Cuban’s lazy blue eyes turn to Keith again, and he snorts. “Of course.”

 

Keith can't help but feel a stab of pity. Lance has spent all this time building up an image, an aura of never ending confidence that he's never _had_. It reminds Keith of how stupid the “fake it til you make it” phrase is. Mentally, he punches himself for missing Lance's issues for so long like an idiot.

 

“I'm sorry I never knew,” he mutters ashamedly.

 

“That's how I wanted it to be.”

 

Keith blinks before registering his words. “ _Wanted._  Past tense?”

 

Lance is looking at the sky again, a smile flirting with his lips. “Past tense,” he confirms softly, and there are so many things Keith wants to say, like “I love you,” or “you mean the world to me,” or “you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” or “this universe doesn't deserve you,” and he wants to kiss Lance. He desires it more than anything he's ever known.

 

But he doesn't. He just whispers, “I'm glad, Lance. We need our sharpshooter.”

 

Lance laughs and his smile grows. “You forgot the ‘ninja’ part, buddy.”

 

And Keith is laughing too, and pretty soon they devolve into a mess of giggles and tears of joy. When Keith catches his breath, he huffs playfully, a dopey smile on his face, “You gotta _earn_ the ‘ninja’ title.”

 

Lance shifts, rolling over to face Keith and tucking his arms under his head. He gazes at Keith fondly and doesn't bother trying to hide it. He blames it on his lack of sleep. “Oh yeah? How do I do that?”

 

Maybe it's the Galra in him, but Keith doesn't realize the fond look on his face. If he does notice, it doesn't even shake him. He sits up, and Lance does the same. “Oh, I, uh-- I dunno? I didn't expect you to _answer_ that--”

 

Lance laughs, and it makes Keith think of sunshine and his shack in the desert. His long legs cross, and he tucks his hands into his lap, casting a glance toward Keith. “I think I might know.”

 

His legs spread out straight, and he leans back on the heels of his hands, head turning to look at Lance curiously.

 

Hands leave Lance's lap, and he tips over toward Keith, body twisted at the waist, steadying himself with one and holding Keith's pale, starlit face in the other.

 

He leans a little further, tilting his head to the side and closing his eyes, and Keith knows what's happening before Lance's soft lips catch his.

 

It's awkward at first. Keith almost falls over in something like shock, and he has to catch himself and pull his upper body forward. His legs swing toward Lance, the twist on his waist a little less drastic that way, and Lance's lower half scoots toward Keith too. Their teeth clack and their noses get in the way, and Keith doesn't move for a solid second or two before finally shifting forward, his hands reaching out for Lance's shirt. Only then do his eyes close.

 

Their lips slide together perfectly, like two molds made for one another. Lance tastes like mint toothpaste, and Keith hopes he brushed his teeth before he went to bed.

 

The kiss felt like... happiness. Home. It was safety and comfort and love, all wrapped into one-- no, two. Two boys, young, lost, and afraid, but learning. Learning together.

 

When they stop, they don't pull away. Their foreheads rest on one another, their breaths mingling. Keith catches Lance's hand by the wrist when he tries to move it away, and he stares up at Lance, hoping his emotions are projected there. “Thanks,” he mutters, breath fanning over Lance's lips.

 

“What for?”

 

“Dunno,” Keith hums, releasing Lance's wrist. “Just felt thankful.”

 

Lance laughs again, and even though he can do it, Keith resists the urge to kiss him again. “Glad you're starting to open up, buddy.”

 

He rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway, eyelids drooping shut again. “Buddy,” he answers thoughtfully.

 

“If you regret this, just know I'm delirious from lack of sleep.”

 

Keith's eyes flutter open again. “Excuse me?”

 

Lance pulls away and laughs, turning forward again and laying on his back. “I'm just teasing, Mullet.”

 

A breath of relief Keith didn't know he was holding leaves his lips, and he lies down, scooting close to Lance. “Can… Can I do this?” he asks hesitantly, slowly wiggling against him and reaching for his hand.

 

“By all means.”

 

So he does, and they cuddle on Blue's head, fingers intertwined while billions of stars twinkle overhead. And at some point, they fall asleep this way.

 

* * *

 

Lance wakes up with a crick in his neck and his back aching, but most noticeably with Keith curled against his chest, softly snoring. The sun is just barely rising, about a quarter of it peeking over the horizon, and it takes Lance a second to remember where he is.

 

Carefully, he untangles his legs from Keith's, who shifts in his sleep and groans a little. Lance winces and shimmies away, sitting up and staring at the golden sky through hooded eyes.

 

Suddenly, he feels like crying, just breaking down, kicking and screaming and sobbing. He feels like letting himself snap.

 

His eyes wander back to Keith, who was still sleeping surprisingly peacefully.

 

He'll break down later.

 

“Hey, Keith,” Lance's is voice is as soft as a kitten as he gently shakes Keith by the shoulder. “Hey. We fell asleep. We should get going.”

 

Keith groans, rolling over and nearly falling off of Blue. Lance laughs, and he feels Blue's mirrored amusement fill him and laughs harder.

 

“It's not funny! I almost died!” Keith's wide awake now, scrabbling to safer territory and giving the edge of the platform and scornful glance. “I swear, you've programmed your lion to kill me.”

 

“Yup. Uh-huh. You caught me. Let's just go before Allura and company show up and we have to clean the healing pods for a week.” He offers an exaggerated shudder, staring distantly at the sky before patting Blue. She opens her mouth and he swings himself in, Keith in tow.

 

* * *

 

“We were worried _sick,_ guys.”

 

Lance sighs, dropping his spoon back into his food and giving Hunk an exasperated look. “Okay, I get that, but seriously. We were fine, like, one hundred percent. There was no need to worry. We literally went straight to the Balmera and came back.”

 

Shiro gives Lance the Look, and then it shifts to Keith. Lance can feel the dad lecture coming on, so he braces himself. “Okay, that's all fine and dandy, but you still left in the middle of the night without telling anyone. Ad we still don't even know why. Plus, what if something had happened? What if the Galra tracked you and attacked while you were there? You said you went to sleep in the open, which wasn't logical in the first place--”

 

“Woah, woah-woah-woah-woah-woah,” Lance retorts, scrunching his eyebrows together and pointing accusingly at Shiro. “We had Blue. She would've protected me. We're pretty tight. Can't believe you'd doubt me and my-”

 

Allura cuts him off, hands on her hips. “Need I remind you that the Blue Lion is piloted by _me_ now? You're the Red paladin. Keith is the Black paladin.”

 

A disdainful look is shared between Keith and Lance and Keith adds cautiously, “Uh. About that.”

 

Icy silence settles over everyone, and tension crackles in the air. Keith sends a glance toward Lance, who is playing with his food. With a sigh, he goes on, recognizing that he's alone for this one. “We've been kind of… using Blue and Red here recently.”

 

“Excuse me?” Allura narrows her eyes, leaning forward.

 

Pidge shifts her glasses excitedly, a grin on her face. “You're able to just _switch lions_ like that? Double paladins?”

 

Both of them shrug, Keith meeting everyone's eye while Lance stares at his food with frustration.

 

“No,” the princess takes a step forward. “You cannot teeter between lions. You're going to cause an upset. There is absolutely no reason to, and the two of you know it.”

 

He feels anger build in his gut, his fists clenching and his eyes narrowing. He's about to start yelling, but surprisingly, Lance beats him to it.

 

“I don't understand why it matters!” Lance has leapt to his feet, slamming his hands down on the table. His spoon clatters to the floor. “So _what_ if we can pilot two lions? It doesn't hurt anything!” His voice gains a depressive sort of edge to it. “You know, after _months_ of fighting alongside these people I call my _friends,_  I'd figure you'd all know by now that sometimes, I need some fucking space, and this time, Keith came! I do this all the time! It's not _my_ fault that none of you pay _any_ attention to what I do because you view me as insignificant! If you're so fucking sure that I'm that worthless, just fucking _say it._ Go on and say it. Make me feel even shittier.”

 

Lance has tears in his eyes; whether they're of sadness or anger or both, no one really knows. He's biting at his bottom lip with wide eyes, gazing between the team. Finally, his shoulders slump.

 

“I'll be in my room.”

 

Keith watches him go, wanting to follow him, wanting to comfort him, to squeeze his hand and hold him and tell him it's going to be okay, and he's not worthless, he doesn't deserve to feel shitty.

 

But out of fear, he does not.

 

Lance would've liked him to.

 

* * *

 

Lance stays locked in his room throughout the entire day and he does not speak to any of the brave souls who peck feebly on his door, asking to come in.

 

He's been crying all day, but he can't anymore. He can't physically produce anymore tears. He is left staring at nothing, in total darkness, his eyes raw and aching and his head pounding, but most of all, with this existential feeling in his chest.

 

He can't breathe.

 

He's so stupid. So, so stupid for even saying anything, for taking Blue, for taking Keith, for going at all. For _kissing Keith._ It didn't matter that it had lifted the anvil from his gut and brightened his very being. He shouldn't have done it. He'd ruined everything, and he just keeps doing it, over and over and over again, because he never learns. He never learns from his mistakes, and history repeats itself so many times that he can predict what comes next before it happens.

 

It makes him sick.

 

He throws up.

 

He doesn't stop thinking about what he did wrong, about why Keith didn't follow him or comfort him, about where this ends, about how his mom is, about how his _family_ is, about how utterly useless he is. His uselessness manages to surprise him every time, because he never changes. He never will.

 

He wonders where it all went wrong, because Keith hasn't even knocked on his door. Keith has not visited him. Keith has not spoken to him. Keith has been on total radio silence, and it scares him so badly because he already knows he's done something terribly wrong, but he doesn't know the magnitude of it.

 

 _Why did you kiss him, Lance?_ _Why can't you get over this? Why? Why, why, why, why, why don't you do anything right? Why do you fuck everything up? Why are you so ridiculously horrible? Why do you chase everyone away from you? Why can't you be important? Why aren't you as good as everyone else?_

 

Lance listens to every word the devil in the back of his head whispers to him, and he ponders them, tucking them into his skin and letting them rest there until they sink, engraved into him.

 

He does not have anything to say to the voice other than, “I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm broken.”

 

_That's why you have me._

 

And he knows that's true.

 

* * *

 

“Keith, get your damn boyfriend under control. This is the _second_ regular training regiment we _always_ do that he's skipped,” snaps Shiro as the team rolls into the bridge, one after the other.

 

Keith leaves his helmet on, feeling the anger flicker inside him as he curls his fingers. “He's _not_ my boyfriend, and that's why I'm not doing anything. I know Lance. He'll come out when he's ready. You heard him this morning. He needs space."

 

A sigh echoes and he turns around to see a defeated Hunk. “I've tried going to his room, he ignores me. I know him _better,_ he’s my _best friend,_ and he really needs someone right now. He’s done it before, but I just… don’t know who. He _always_ lets me in.”

 

Pidge slips her helmet off and wipes sweat from her forehead, looking vaguely bored. “Lance is emotional. He’s a drama queen. But if I had one guess, Keith, you’d be the one to help him right now,” she tucks the helmet under her arm and tilts her head at Keith, giving him a genuine expression as she slides her glasses on. “You’re his support, he’s your stability… it goes hand in hand, y’know?” Suggestively, she wiggles her eyebrows, because the little gremlin knows more than she lets on, and she wants Keith to be aware of that little fact.

 

“I hate all of you,” he retorts dryly, but still turns on his heels to go to Lance’s room, his footsteps echoing too loudly in his ears as he trots down the hall. He doesn’t even take off his armor.

 

When he reaches Lance’s room, he stands there for a solid minute, mentally prepping himself because, holy shit. He really had _not_ thought this through. What was he supposed to say? Lance probably regretted last night. Keith didn’t. Keith absolutely didn’t. He relished in the memory of last night (this morning?) and he didn’t feel guilty.

 

Unless Lance hadn’t actually wanted to kiss him. Or talk to him. Or watch the stars with him.

 

He knocks-- three times-- before he can have a mental breakdown. No one responds, so he knocks again. Still nothing. He manages to even his breathing and clear his throat loudly, asking the door gently, “Lance?” And there’s no voice answering with a just as soft mutter of his own name.

 

Keith tells himself that Lance is probably just asleep. It’s not that they’re something going on between them he’s not aware of. Lance isn’t mad. He’s just sleeping. It works until a dozen knocks later, and half-shouts of Lance’s name, finally toss him into a minor anxiety attack. He finds himself failing to silence a sob, and he stares longingly at the door before gazing back and forth in confusion.

 

He runs down the hall and straight to his room, disappearing into it just as a groggy, dazed Lance sticks his head out of his own room.

 

* * *

  


“How the fuck do they keep managing to dodge one another?” Pidge complains to Allura, Shiro, and Hunk in the common room. “There was the thing when Keith went to see Lance, and the time Keith got out of the shower _just before Lance went,_ and the incident with breakfast this morning, and when Keith fucking dashed out of the training room when he saw Lance coming… this is hopeless. Lance will never train with us again and they’re gonna be pining for the rest of their lives.”

 

Allura shakes her head before apologizing to the mice, who had been trying to do her hair. “It’s… quite frustrating, I must agree. But is there anything we can really do? I mean, their love for one another sticks out like a choferiak’s nose. If they can’t see it now, I truly wonder if they ever will.”

 

A beat passes before Shiro snorts. “We just need to trap them together. We need a plan.”

 

“Okay, yes, that is true, we do need a plan,” Pidge wipes at her glasses with her shirt. “But can we just talk about how they're acting? Like, what happened when they were gone? ...you know what, I'm kidding, I don't wanna know. I need brain bleach.”

 

A chorus of groans and disgusted yells of “Pidge!” fill the room before they fall back into seriousness.

 

“Pidge being disgusting aside, I'm really worried about Lance, because he's never been MIA this long before, so can we like, get something together? Please?” Hunk pleads, sending desperate glances out to everyone around him.

 

Just a few seconds pass, everyone visibly attempting to pull together a plan in their heads that would actually work. Finally, Shiro snaps his fingers.

 

“I know what to do, but it’s gonna take all of us, and it’ll have to be at the perfect time.”

 

Shiro had hyped up his plan more than he needed to. In the end, it was just a task of learning a couple routines like the backs of their hands to exploit them where they intercepted.

 

“From what we've all gathered,” Shiro pulls up a sort of document using the Altean technology of the castle. “Literally their schedules only intercept right after breakfast. Here’s the plan, team,”

 

Everyone huddles in, like they would when discussing an important battle plan against a huge Galra fleet. It was almost comical, really, how seriously they were taking this.

 

“Hunk, do everything you can to stall Lance. I’m sure you can think of something. Pidge, wait a minute before you hop in,” he pauses and turns to Allura, smiling. “Allura, you and I have Keith. We’ll figure something out. Just don’t be too obvious.” He faces everyone else again, expression serious once more. “The plan is to corner them into the kitchen. Everyone got an idea of what to do?”

 

No one responds for a solid minute until Hunk nods and rests his hand on Pidge’s shoulder. “Operation Gays In Love is a-go!” Everyone shares a laugh before splitting up into their mini-groups, already chatting over plans for what to do.

 

Pidge starts talking almost immediately. “Okay. What's the plan? If you have nothing I've got a few ideas, but I know you're Lance's best friend. You know what'll work.”

 

Hunk has a dark look on his face as they walk toward the bathroom. “There's only one thing that we can do, Pidge.”

 

She tilts her head, glancing up at him. “What?”

 

_“Facemasks."_

 

* * *

 

“Why did you choose me? I mean, Keith is more fond of Pidge than he is me. It would've been more sensible for me to go with Hunk.”

 

Shiro wears an amused expression, glancing at Allura. “Are you complaining?” he jokes.

 

She looks slightly horrified, her eyebrows raised and eyes wide. “Absolutely not! I just meant--”

 

“Relax, Princess. Keith listens to you. Lance listens to Hunk, and Hunk and Pidge are a great team. They work well together. Now we need to think of what we're doing…”

 

Allura smiles, observing the training room as they came up on it. “If I know Keith at all, the only thing that’ll stop him is if Lance is in trouble.” Her gaze turns to Shiro, all smug and mischievous.

 

“That's brilliant, Princess. See why I took you?”

 

She shrugs and stops just before they enter the training room. They can already hear the sound of swords clanging together and scratching against one another, accompanied by huffs and groans from Keith ever so often. “Play along,” she tells Shiro, pelting into the training room with the most terrified expression she can muster etched into her face.

 

“Keith!” She yells, not out of breath. “Keith, the castle's communication systems are being repaired.”

 

Keith swallows heavily and pants, wiping sweat from his forehead and gasping, “End training sequence,” before heaving himself to his feet and bending a little. The ends of his hair curl from sweat and his bangs are plastered to his forehead. “You interrupted my training to tell me the castle's communication systems are being repaired. Cool. Can I continue now?”

 

“You misunderstand. There are other systems down, too. And… Lance. Lance is in trouble. We need more hands to save him. Keith, we need you to save Lance.”

 

Progressively, Keith's eyes widen, only as slowly or quickly as he perceived her words. “Lance? Where is he? Where is everyone?”

 

Allura grabs his hand, and she can see the disinterest dulling his worried eyes. “Everyone's in the kitchen, trying to help him. Come o--”

 

She turns to pull Keith behind her just as Shiro runs up. “Lance is safe, but he's really shaken up. He wants to be alone with Hunk right now, but we can all wait outside the kitchen for when he's ready to talk to the rest of us.”

 

The relief and disappointment mingled in his violet eyes. “Thank God,” he sighed, something punctuating his voice, all sharp and heavy. “I'm glad he's okay. If it's fine with you guys, I'm gonna back off. He doesn't need me t--”

 

“No. He needs all of us right now, especially you, Keith.” Shiro demands, and Keith has this dread hanging in his stomach, but he can't say no to Shiro.

 

* * *

 

“Actually, I kinda like these. They're cool. What are they supposed to do?” Pidge’s hand raises to touch the face mask, but Lance slaps it back.

 

“Don't touch. This one is a skin moisturizer.” Lance reports matter-of-factly, closing his eyes and raising his eyebrows. “But mine is this one I catered to suit my skin.”

 

Hunk lets out an indignant noise. “I think I put it on backward…”

 

The look on Lance's face is of friendly annoyance. “Hunk, you literally paint it onto your face. I did it for you.”

 

“Well, yeah! But…”

 

“Hush. You can take it off in a minute.” Lance smiles and laughs, his helmet between his legs as he cleans it.

 

Even Pidge is smiling, tinkering with a robot that she'd been fairly dedicated to for a while. From where he's still polishing, Lance asks without looking up, “What have you been working on, Pidgeon?”

 

She stops and shifts her glasses with her fingers. “A robot. I was able to trace the essence of Rover awhile back, and, using the code, I've been constructing a carbon copy. It's not as good as the original yet, and probably never will be. After all, not even the castle has the kind of tech to be a _perfect_ mirror image, but I miss having a robot sidekick, you know? I wanted to try my hand at Galran robotics.”

 

“Well,” Lance hums supportively, not at all lost on what she just said, which surprises Pidge. “I think you're doing pretty well so far. You're a genius, Pidgeon, and we're proud.”

 

Pidge’s heart fills with warmth, and she almost starts to cry with her joy. Lance reminds her a lot of Matt sometimes, and she thinks that's why they're so sibling-like. Lance filled the void Matt had left the best he could, and Pidge feels a sudden twinge of guilty for tossing him aside when she finally found her brother. That wasn't very nice of her. She knows it must've hurt Lance a little. Why didn't he tell her?

 

She was really beginning to see Lance's demons, bit by bit.

 

“I… thank you, Lance. Really. That means a lot.”

 

He stops cleaning to toss finger guns at Pidge, and everyone laughs, even Lance.

 

“Man, I love you guy,s” Hunk announces, tears in his eyes. “You're just both so… so amazing, you know? Pidge, I know you like… hated us at the Garrison, but when you did hang out with us, it was so fun. And now that we can actually work together, and like, not yell at each other, we make a really good team. We're a trio all the way, right?”

 

“Right,” Pidge replies gently, smiling and resting her hand on Hunk's leg. “We are a good team.”

 

 _We are a good team._ The words make Lance zone out, a sort of pained look on his face. He remembers the words, remembers saying them to Keith from what felt like eons ago. He'd meant it, too. But when he'd woken up, he, out of fear, had told Keith he didn't remember. He royally fucked up. Why is he so afraid to feel?

 

He knows this answer, but pretends he doesn't. It hurts to think on it.

 

_Again with the goddamn pretending._

 

“Lance? You okay?”

 

Pidge’s voice brings him back to reality and he blinks heavily, eyebrows furrowed. “Sorry, what, I- I'm fine!” He sounds far too defensive, and he knows it.

 

An awkward laugh falls from his lips, but Pidge continues speaking. “I said, speaking of good teams… what's going on? With you and Keith?”

 

Ice surges through his veins, and he can feel the way his body tenses up and aches, the way his heartbeat fluctuates and his breath catches. “K-Keith?” his voice breaks, and he clears his throat. When he begins again, his voice is still trembling. “What about him? Nothing’s going on!” Too defensive again.

 

Hunk says in a comforting tone, “Lance. C’mon. Me and Pidge know when something is wrong. For one, you've been weird lately, and I think you're sinking into another of your depressive episodes where you avoid everyone like the plague and just tear yourself up and like, stop eating and--”

 

“Okay, okay, I get it!”

 

“Right, and then you and Keith have been staying away from each other entirely, even though Keith comes and talks to the rest of us--”

 

Pidge finishes the thought. “So we were wondering what happened that night…”

 

Silence crackles in the air, crushing Lance's lungs and making it hard for him to breathe. He stuffs his shaking hands into his lap to hide them and takes a deep breath. He's deadly serious and his voice stays low; despite this, the fear is obvious there, too. “You really wanna know?”

 

Hesitantly, Hunk and Pidge share a glance and then they nod in unison.

 

Lance sighs. “I… I… opened up. And I… kissed him. I kissed Keith. I remembered the bonding moment. I remembered everything. I lied. I pushed him away. I was so scared, I’m still so scared, and… I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know if he remembers kissing me. He’d act differently, wouldn’t he? I don’t think he remembers. I can’t tell him. It’ll ruin everything. I’ve ruined everything. I kissed him, I kissed him, I _kissed him,_ oh my _God, oh my God._ Oh my God, I kissed Keith, I-- I can’t do this. I can’t. Why did I do that, why did I fuck everything up, o-oh my God-- I… I’m sorry,” he stops. The entire time, he’d been quivering, hands waving wildly as he stood up. He peels off his mask, splashes his face, glances in the mirror and grimaces. He turns back around, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I’m just… Gonna go, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

 

He moves to leave, but both Pidge and Hunk, having already removed their masks, intercept him. He takes a step back, gaze flicking between them like some sort of caged feral animal.

 

But Pidge and Hunk have friendly expressions on their faces, gentle and loving.

 

Pidge tilts her head and reaches to gently squeeze Lance’s arm, reassuring. “Lance. You’re not alone. You’re never alone. We’re right here, and we’re gonna get you through this. He remembers. We can all tell,” she glances to Hunk, who rests his hand on Lance’s broad shoulder.

 

“He’s been worried sick, working himself to death in the training room, skipping meals, not sleeping, running off in his lion. Wreckless, y’know? Because--”

 

Lance’s eyes widen, and he cuts Hunk off, a little breathless. “Because I’m his anchor…”

 

The two of them grin happily at Lance, and they all move into a hug in sync, arms tight around one another. From where she hugs Lance, Pidge comments, “And he’s your lifeboat.”

 

The hug is warm and secure, extremely comforting… exactly what Lance needs right now. But it also brings with it a bout of _courage._ He knows what he has to do.

 

Gently, he untangles himself from the two. One more breath. “Where can I find him?”

 

“The kitchen,” they say together.

 

Lance doesn't point out how suspicious that is, because the only thought running through his mind is Keith. He sprints to the door and skids to a stop, looking over his shoulder. “I'm gonna make this up to you two,” he promises, eyes narrowed with determination before he spins and takes off once more.

 

* * *

 

It's awkward when a panting, but entirely healthy, Lance runs up to Keith sitting outside the kitchen. Before Keith can attack Allura and Shiro, they somehow disappear. But he doesn't need them there to know that the whole thing was a plan to get them together.

 

“Kitchen,” Lance pants, pointing over Keith's shoulder.

 

Keith backs into the kitchen-- it's empty, mind you-- and Lance follows him in. The door presses shut behind them, and it's just the two of them.

 

Lance seemed to have finished catching his breath from running, but still, the two of them are silent. There's a good fifteen feet between them again, but not for long. After a couple minutes, Lance runs at him, tackling him and yanking him into a tight grip, hugging him like his life depends on it. His arms are around Keith's neck.

 

“I'm sorry I don't know what to do,” Lance whispers, nestling his head into the crook of his neck. “I'm so sorry I lied about the bonding moment. I'm so sorry I push you away. I'm so sorry I'm like this.”

 

One of Keith's arms wrap around Lance's waist, the other tangling into his hair to stroke it. His mouth mutters into Lance's ear, full of relief, “I thought you hated me.”

 

“No, No, I… I couldn’t hate you, Keith. How could I hate you?”

 

They separate, and Lance is wide-eyed, eyebrows pressed close together. He lifts his hands and motions as he starts talking again, voice apprehensive. “I’m sorry I kissed you. I meant to do it, and I wanted to do it, but I really don’t think you wanted me to do it, so I shouldn’t have, and I messed everything up. I… probably scared you away with my stupid insecurities, and then I _kissed you_ like an idiot. I was selfish, and--”

 

Keith catches one of his waving hands and pulls him forward, and he doesn’t allow himself to think for even a second, because if he does, he’ll run. He can fight an entire fleet of Galra cruisers without flinching, but here, face to face with Lance, both of their hearts on their sleeves, he is vulnerable. He is scared. He is no longer alone.

 

So, no. He doesn’t think when he presses his lips to Lance’s, just to shut him up. He doesn’t think because thinking can ruin a life, if it really wants to. Sometimes, thinking wasn’t worth the trouble.

 

Besides, he’s too busy admiring Lance’s soft hands, and how gentle his lips are, and how he tastes like sunshine and home to think about running. He is exposed yet _safe_ in Lance’s arms, and he loves this. He loves how easy it is, how right it feels, how alive he is even after they part.

 

“I'm a fucking mess, Keith,” Lance breathes, and Keith can feel the boy’s tears smear onto his skin.

 

“Maybe,” Keith responds, nodding his head a little. “But you don't have to do this alone, Lance. The whole team is here for you. _I'm_ here for you. I… I really care about you. If you couldn't tell. So, uh… yeah.”

 

Lance shuffles backwards, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and sniffling, a tiny smile on his lips. “This is some great blackmail, buddy.”

 

A flash of panic settles over him, drowning him. He thinks Lance can see it, but holy fuck. Was Lance just kidding? Just joking? He half expects someone to jump out from behind a counter and yell, ‘You just got pranked, can't believe you're in love with Lance McClain!’ because that'd be his luck, wouldn't it? By the time he responds, voice breaking, he's already convinced himself the whole thing was a huge joke. “What? _Lance_ \--”

 

“Hey, hey! Relax,” Lance moves his hands in a downward motion, shoulders slumped as he looks at Keith cautiously. “I'm just joking. It's… how I cope. I'm freaking the hell out. I… it's just, the only other time I was ever… serious with someone, I got my heart broken, y’know? So I'm kinda afraid, even though you're an entirely different person and everything, but I just… ah. This is probably really offending you and I need to shut up. Sorry.”

 

A few thoughts run through Keith's head as Lance explains himself. Number one, who the fuck does he have to kill for hurting Lance? Number two, he never realized how much Lance rambles sometimes, and it's actually really cute. Number three, _who the fuck does he have to kill for hurting Lance?_

 

He considers asking who the fuck the bitch was, and he almost does. It's on the tip of his tongue, but he stops it. Instead, he says, “You're okay. I understand. Maybe can't _relate_ , but I can _understand_. You don't need to apologize, really.”

 

The fond smile on Lance's face is one that Keith never thought he'd see directed at him, _for_ him, but he truly thinks he could get used to it.

**Author's Note:**

> comments, kudos, and shares are appreciated~ thanks for reading!!


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